Blue Curtains by Leon B.

Still I will write, if only to pity the fool

who scorns the Olympiad for taking the dive

into the dozen meters of water below

for playing in puddles, while they

toy with the water’s surface from the coping

with the tip of their pinky finger.

Still I will write, though I must weep too

for the monkeys that ever starve

as naught a morsel of food lies on the ground

yet over their heads is a tree of fresh fruits

that remains disregarded, even despite

their expert ability to climb such lengths.

Still I will write, and cling to my words

like a mother to her baby’s warmth

as my eyes dart about to find more

and ever more parents pushing strollers,

cooing, singing, and smiling to

nothing more than a baby-shaped doll.

Still I will write, and lead a revolt

‘gainst coping dwellers, stubborn monkeys,

and parents pushing a pound of plastic,

for my pen can guide me safely underwater,

satiate me until I forget the word “hunger”

warm me like the weight of my dormant child.

Still I will write, for the hand that will write

is never still.

Leon B. is a queer poet who writes freely to the whims of his heart and loves the craft for the beauty of it. He aspires to write and edit professionally in the future.